


Year 2

by mu5icliz



Series: Miracles: Big and small [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mu5icliz/pseuds/mu5icliz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One year has passed since Sherlock's death. Things have changed and they continue to change for John. Hamish is nearing his first full year of life and John can only imagine his life being better if one person was added to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday 17 June

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t like authors notes but this one is necessary.  
> If you are reading this on AO3, hopefully you have found your way here. I put a false chapter at the end of Year 1 in order to inform readers to come to this fic. On AO3, I get the option of making this fic a series and it’s divided up by years.  
> [Miracles Big and Small Series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/28653)  
> [Year 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/511640/chapters/901859)  
> Also, my beta reader and I are working as quickly as we can to post chapters so bear with us.  
> I’ve gotten a couple questions about Sherlock and the only thing I will tell you is that I urge you to look for the clues. They are all over the fic.  
> With that said, you may have noticed by now that I write with inferences. I assume that you as the reader will know what I am trying to get across. I am intentionally vague because I want the characters movements and subtle questions to speak about something larger. Sometimes I don’t explicitly say why a character is doing certain actions. I want you as the reader to be open to these interpretations.  
> Lastly, this is a reminder that I ship johnlock. I ship them with everything I’ve got.  
> And with that, it pains me to give you this chapter. Enjoy!

Monday, 17 June

5:30 A.M.

The nuisance of an alarm clock came as a surprise to John's still dormant system. He considered hitting the snooze button but before he could decide on that, he remembered his long list of things to do before departing.

With a groan he switched off the alarm and sat up in bed. The sky was still dark and it did nothing to rouse John into wakefulness.

Once he had checked on Hamish (still sleeping but not for long) and made his bed, John started up the shower. As he let the warm water wake him up, he contemplated the number of teacups it was going to take before he was fully conscious.

After the shower, he started up the kettle and went into the bedroom. Sure enough, John was met with the familiar sound of Hamish entertaining himself at the early hours of the day. The only difference was that today John wasn't trying to sleep through the noise and there was no time for hide and seek.

John quickly got dressed and then went into the kitchen to add the hot water to his tea bag and cup. While it steeped, he went over to Hamish.

"Hamish," called John in a soft voice. The infant was busy playing with his toes and making spit bubbles. John rubbed Hamish's stomach and smiled at him. "Come on mate," he said as he lifted the six month old out of the crib.

Hamish's movements were still a bit sluggish from sleep but it only made John's task of dressing him minimally better. Halfway through dressing him, John remembered his cup of tea. He quickly snatched up the half dressed infant and hurried into the kitchen. Hamish giggled the whole way there.

John dumped the bag and managed to salvage the tea. As he was taking a big gulp, Hamish's tiny hands kept trying to take the cup from him.

Once the tea was done, John got back to work on buttoning Hamish's cargo shorts and putting a light shirt on him. He stepped back and laughed at the look of the infant's shorts. The nappy underneath was making his backside appear larger. John's laughter was short lived when he looked at the time on the clock.

John scrambled about preparing a bottle while his baby lay in an upright papoose and suckled on his fist against John's chest. When the bottle was ready, John held onto it with one hand and fed it to Hamish. With his free hand, he packed the nappy bag with everything Mrs. Hudson would need.

When he was done, John realized he may have over packed. All the while that he packed and unpacked, Hamish suckled on his bottle with fervor.

Finally, when John was comfortable with everything in the nappy bag, he set it by the door and got to work on his own business bag. It took less than five minutes to pack for that. An extra five minutes and his lunch, leftovers from the night before, was also packed. What took longer was the checklist of baby supplies and the written schedule for Mrs. Hudson. John checked it and rechecked it. A push chair? Already at Baker Street. 8 A.M. cereal feeding? Yes. Emergency contacts? Everything from 999 to his mobile number.

And so it went until everything was accounted for and Hamish began to fuss and pull on the straps of the papoose.

"Papa," he cried, trying to free himself from the carrier. John just rubbed the infants head and shushed him as he gathered everything and made his way out of the door.

With the nappy bag against his back, Hamish on his front, and his business bag in his right hand, they made their way to the tube station and for Baker Street.

The tube station in the early morning was full of tourists and commuters. There was something John didn't miss. The crowds of people, surprisingly, calmed Hamish. He spent the entire tube ride staring at people and when he stared too long that someone turned around and noticed, they would smile at him and Hamish would return the smile with his own gummy smile from behind his soother. John reveled in the comfortable weight, the smiles, and the compliments from the other passengers.

They reached the Baker street station and John had a moment of familiarity just like all the other times they had gone to see Mrs. Hudson. The feeling only grew as they reached the front door of 221. He stared up at the building and a shiver went up his spine. The windows upstairs still had the curtains drawn and no one was playing the violin.

A soft kick from a baby shoe roused John from his thoughts and brought him back to the present. John looked down and found Hamish just staring at him. John smiled and moved to knock on the door. Within seconds Mrs. Hudson was pulling open the door and engulfing them in a hug to which Hamish made his complaints heard.

"Oh I'm so sorry dear," she said as she kissed Hamish's forehead and to which he responded by clinging to John's shirt even more.

The three of them moved inside into Mrs. Hudson's flat. John tried not to stare at the staircase too much.

Once inside, Mrs. Hudson offered him everything from a cup of tea to a full breakfast.

"I'm fine thank you but I really need to get going soon," answered John.

"Of course."

John quickly went through the schedule he had written out for Mrs. Hudson. "He just had a bottle of milk and he shouldn't need another until after his morning nap. Between now and then he needs to have some cereal…"

Mrs. Hudson just nodded along while he explained every step in detail and tried not to look as condescending as she felt.

When John had finished reviewing what she already knew, he started taking Hamish out of his papoose and then taking stock of what was already in the flat. "You're a short walk from Regents Park and he likes to have a walk after he's had lunch. Actually, since I'm here already, I should just prepare and feed him his cereal."

Mrs. Hudson immediately jumped up from her seat on the sofa to stop him. "No, John it's fine. He is fine and you will be late if you don't get going."

"It won't take more than fifteen minutes –"

"You can spend your fifteen minutes saying goodbye."

John went silent at the word "goodbye." He had almost forgotten that he needed to leave Hamish while he went off to work.

Mrs. Hudson held out her hands for Hamish. "I promise he will be in his highchair and eating his cereal as soon as you leave."

John slowly handed Hamish over to Mrs. Hudson and for an indescribable reason, it hurt. She gave him a sad smile and began moving over to the door and John slowly followed her.

At the open door he turned around and said, "Um he likes to watch Borough Street so if that's on you can just prop him up in front of the telly. I will have my phone on the whole time so you can call me or text me for  _anything_."

"I know, John. He will be fine but are you going to be fine?"

John gave a nervous laugh at that, "I – I'm not sure just yet," he stammered. "Can I just…" he trailed off as he motioned with his arms, asking to hold Hamish one more time. Mrs. Hudson held him up and passed Hamish over to John's awaiting arms.

"Hey," he murmured to the infant. John held him close to his chest and Hamish curled up in his familiar position. He squeezed and rocked the infant back and forth in his arms while Hamish just sighed.

"John, you're going to be late…" Mrs. Hudson trailed off.

John sighed and kissed Hamish's forehead. He looked into the infant's blue eyes one last time and then handed him to Mrs. Hudson. Once she had him in her grasp, Hamish began to grunt and cry out, "papa". John purposely tried to ignore Hamish's cries and refused to look in his direction any further. He just waved them both goodbyes, said a rushed "thank you", and then closed the door.

The walk from 221 Baker Street to the clinic felt automatic and weightless. John barely registered that there were other bodies around him. His mind was only thinking of the body he was missing on his shoulders.

His arrival to the clinic came as a surprise. He had not noticed or acknowledged the direction in which he walked to. John stepped into the clinic promptly at eight and was met with the sight of Peter.

"Doctor Watson, welcome back," beamed Peter.

John put on his best smile and waved at him. Between the front door and his office, several doctors and nurses gave him greetings and "welcome back's".

Once he crossed the threshold into his office, John closed the door and leaned against it. He dropped his bag and pulled out his phone. Within seconds his phone was dialing Mrs. Hudson.

" _Hello John_ ," she greeted in an assuming voice.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson, just wanted to check in. I just now arrived at work. I would have called sooner but I got held up."

" _Of course dear, that's no problem._ "

John was silent for a moment as he strained to listen to what was happening on the other end.

Mrs. Hudson broke the pause with, " _Hamish is right in front of me eating his cereal. Would you like to talk to him?"_

John's face split into a grin and quietly said, "Yes".

He listened as Mrs. Hudson put the phone on speakerphone and said " _Hamish…can you say hi?_ " John held his breath as he listened to the first sound of Hamish's babbling. " _Hamish_ ," sang Mrs. Hudson's voice. Again there was only the sound of more babbling and the banging of objects.

John broke out of his stunned silence and finally chimed, "Hamish." Immediately the sounds of babbling and banging stopped.

Mrs. Hudson's laughter came on over the phone. " _He recognized your voice_."

John gave a small airy laugh and said again, "Hamish."

This time Mrs. Hudson's laughter was merrier than the last time. " _Oh John you should see his face. His eyes are like saucers._ "

John just laughed and tried to imagine the amount of times he had seen those bright blue-grey eyes light up.

Mrs. Hudson's voice came on the phone again, " _Hamish, who is that?_ "

There was silence and then John said once again, "Hamish."

Mrs. Hudson's giggles sounded over the phone again. " _Is that your papa?_ " she asked the infant.

Hamish's understanding was immediate. "Papa," he cried.

John beamed at hearing the six month old properly identify him. He delighted in the sound of Hamish giggling and saying Papa.

The sound of Peter's voice on the intercom violently thrust John into the present.

He rubbed between his eyebrows and groaned to Mrs. Hudson, "I need to start work now."

" _It's alright, dear. If you need anything, just give me a call._ " Before she hung up, he heard Hamish's sobs calling out for him.

John reluctantly removed the phone from his ear and walked over to his desk to answer Peter's message. "Go ahead and send them in."

 

12:30 P.M.

John spent the whole of the morning tending to his patients and doubling his efforts on focusing and diagnosing his patients correctly. Countless times during the consultations, he found himself looking at the clock and trying to predict what Hamish could probably be doing as per his schedule.

On a few occasions, he listened for the buzz of his phone to signal a new update from Mrs. Hudson. In between patients, John busied himself by sending her a message. The response always came while he was with a patient and he used the whole of his effort to not read it until after they were gone.

Twelve-thirty arrived and John was allowed his one-hour lunch break. He had not contacted Mrs. Hudson for over an hour and a half so when the time came, he didn't even reach for his lunch. Instead he picked up his phone and dialed Mrs. Hudson's number.

" _Hello John_ ," she whispered through the phone.

"Hello, is Hamish asleep?"

" _Yes, he just now fell asleep. He put up quite the fight._ "

John's mind began to churn with theories and ideas. "Is something the matter with him? He usually doesn't fight."

" _No no,_ " she responded. " _It's nothing like that. I think he's just not used to this arrangement yet. Also, he was having so much fun with his uncle Mycroft –_ "

"Mycroft?" interrupted John.

" _Yes, Mycroft_ ," she replied. " _Hamish and I went to the park earlier, as per your schedule, and Mycroft was there._ "

"But…what was he doing there?"

" _I have no idea. He just said he took an early lunch and decided to go for a walk when he spotted us._ "

John just thought for a moment before he finally asked, "What did he want with Hamish?"

" _Nothing really. We walked around. We talked – well mostly I talked – and then we stopped underneath a tree. I lay Hamish down on a blanket. Mycroft played with him and then we came home where he had a bit of a strop."_

John let the information sink in and then tried to picture Mycroft playing with Hamish.

" _Is there a problem_?" asked Mrs. Hudson.

He shook his head and then vocalized when he realized she wasn't around to see. "I just didn't know Mycroft would be around, that's all."

" _Neither did I but there he was. He was ever so sweet with Hamish too and Hamish just adores him._ "

John held back the bitterness and jealousy he felt at those words. "Um…Right, well…when he wakes, he should have a bottle and some playing time – "

" _Yes dear, I have that all right here on the schedule_."

"Right…and I should be there just after 4."

" _I will see you then. Enjoy your lunch_."

John unwillingly replaced the phone on his desk and began to eat his lunch. He tried distracting himself with thinking of other things – office gossip, Doctor Browne's second surgery, patient diagnosis's – But nothing distracted him from the emptiness of not having Hamish with him.

He prevented himself from calling Mrs. Hudson and asking her to let him listen to Hamish's breathing. Instead, John opened his blog and entertained himself with reading and looking at pictures of Hamish.

He smiled looking at a picture of Hamish in his bouncing chair.

He groaned reading Sarah's rendition of Hamish's six month physical in the comments.

He laughed at Violet's story in the comments about a young Sherlock's own attempts at attention with fake crying (" _More like fake screaming that I could hear from my bedroom while the nanny of the month tried not to join in on the crying._ "). Admittedly, Violet's story didn't make him as happy as it should have. It just made John wonder if Hamish would grow up thinking he didn't get the attention he deserved because John had gone to work and left him for eight hours out of the day.

Then his mind started thinking of all the milestones he would miss because he was now working.

Once again, Peter on the intercom was around to give him his reality check.

"Yeah, I'm ready. Go ahead and let them in."

The door opened to reveal a young light brown haired mother, who in her arms carried an infant with equally brown hair. Up until that point, John had not seen a child in the clinic all day and to see them came as a shock.

The only thing that shook him from his shock was when the woman smiled at him and walked into the room of her own accord. John smiled and looked down at the chart before finally addressing them.

"Nathan Barnett?"

"That's him," beamed his mother with a smile down at Nathan in her arms. Nathan continued to suck on his soother and look up at her in amazement. "I'm Brooke," said the mother, shifting her son to one side and extending her hand.

"Doctor Watson," said John with a shake. He took a seat while Brooke and Nathan took a seat on the patient's bed. John continued to read from the chart aloud, "Nathan Barnett, born December 8th, so he's –"

" – six months," chimed John and Brooke at the same time. They both looked at each other and laughed.

"Yes," laughed John. "I have a six month old myself."

"You do?" marveled Brooke.

"Yes, he is six months and two weeks."

"Oh that's almost like my Nathan."

John smiled back and chose to confess to her, "This is actually my first day back at work away from him."

Brooke's jaw dropped. "Oh my goodness, I'm sure your wife must be torturing you with pictures and updates. I know I do that to my husband," she laughed.

John laughed along with her and then said, "No, actually, I'm a single father so he's being taken care of by a friend."

"Ohhh," replied Brooke with a look of pity. "That must be so much worse. I can't even think of what it will be like when I have to go back to work."

They both chuckled and then John reached for his phone. "I'm sure I have a picture of him here," said John as he unlocked it. The first thing was an alert from Mrs. Hudson. It was a couple minutes old and contained a photograph. John opened the photo and was met with the sight of Hamish sitting in the middle of a blanket that was stretched out on the park grass. His dark brown hair swept to one side and his bright blue eyes pointed at the camera while his body faced an umbrella, undoubtedly Mycroft's, in his lap. His mouth held no soother. Instead, his lips were glistening with a light sheen of drool and set in a small red pout. The entire demeanor dripped with innocence.

John smiled as he looked over the picture and then showed it to Brooke who leaned in to look at it with Nathan.

"Aww he's adorable. What's his name?"

"Hamish."

"How cute," she turned to look at her son and pointed at the picture. "Look a baby." Nathan just craned his neck to look and continued to suck on his soother. His nonchalance elicited a laugh from John and Brooke.

"Well," exclaimed John, locking his phone away again. "We should get this physical through with. My Hamish had his last week as well."

"Oh gosh, how did he do with needles?"

"Not good," John chuckled.

Soon they had Nathan sitting up on the patients bed and John began asking questions similar to the ones Sarah had asked him the week before.

"How are his sleeping habits?"

"Very good," beamed Brooke. "He sleeps through the night almost every night."

"Uh huh," muttered John as he scribbled down notes. "And what type of food is he eating?"

"He's been eating solid foods – cereals, apple sauce, puree – for almost a whole month."

John bit his tongue back and continued to write his notes. "Is he crawling?"

"Yes actually," smiled Brooke, as John gripped his chart tightly. "He's been crawling for a couple weeks."

"But…not full on crawling, right?" smirked John.

"Um…I think he is. He crawls about five paces and then falls over…Oh god," trembled Brooke. "Is that bad? Should I be worried?"

"No, no it's fine," John reassured her then looked down at his chart and wrote that Nathan has been somewhat able to crawl for two weeks. "Can he stand on his own or with help?"

"No, that's the thing we still haven't gotten him to do. We try every night but he doesn't like straightening his legs."

"Perfectly normal," said John as he tried to cover the glee he felt. "Is he teething?"

"He is," beamed Brooke as she opened Nathan's mouth in order to show John.

_Oh come on_ , he thought as he stood up and looked at Nathan's mouth. Sure enough, a tiny white spot was blooming in his front gums. John irritably wrote down Nathan's teething progress, then asked, "Can he talk?"

"No actually. He's pretty silent. He does scream and cry but other than that, not much else."

John bit back a smile and asked, "He doesn't even say 'mum' or 'dad' or…'papa'?"

"Nope, not yet. But then, even Albert Einstein never said a word until late in his childhood," laughed Brooke.

John sarcastically laughed along with her.  _A young Albert Einstein, yeah, right_ , he thought. "Right, well, if you could just take his clothes off, we can weigh that… _Einstein_  brain of his," said John with as little sarcasm as he could muster.

Brooke took no notice of his tone. She just began pulling off the infant's clothing and then placing him on the scale. "That's 19 and a half pounds I'd say. All those apple sauces and purees are going right to his tummy," teased John.

John conducted the rest of the physical in a civil manner and then it was time for the vaccines. He began preparing the supplies and pulling his gloves on while Brooke and Nathan situated themselves similarly to how he and Hamish had done the week before.

When everything was ready, he turned to Brooke and the emotions he saw looking back at him, were what he had felt only a week ago. Her face was pale and composed with false nonchalance.

John looked at her and asked, "Ready?"

Brooke's eyes expanded and she let out a shaky sigh.

"I know how you feel," empathized John. "Just know…I think it hurts us, more than it will hurt him."

Brooke nervously laughed at that.

Next, John looked to Nathan and tried to get him to smile but got nothing more than a curious glance. John resigned himself and tried not to compare the lack of smiles from Nathan to the abundance of smiles he got from Hamish.

John rubbed the cotton with the rubbing alcohol on the infants thigh, then followed it with the pin-prick of a needle. It was business as usual, until Nathan began to cry. John jerked his head upwards, startled by the loud screams coming out of the infant's mouth. He couldn't even say it reminded him of Hamish. The last time Hamish was that loud, he was a couple weeks old and suffering from colic.

John withdrew the needle and put a plaster over the injection site. Then he rubbed the infant's head and shushed him as softly as he could. It only minimally helped. Nathan was still kicking and screaming.

He decided it was best just to do the second one and have it over with. The second injection was no better than the first. If anything, Nathan's screams became higher pitched and his body kept moving. Brooke and John had their spare hands occupied with holding the infant still enough to allow John to do his job. The needle went in and the two of them had a hell of a time controlling Nathan.

John withdrew the needle, put a plaster over the injection site, and proclaimed "all done". He even made a point of pulling off his gloves to demonstrate that he was done but Nathan wasn't watching. His head was thrown back and eyes shut.

Brooke turned took her child in her arms and squeezed him trying to shush him as best she could. After a couple minutes, Nathan's screams had died down to just average cries.

When it was clear that he was calmed as good as it was going to get, Brooke and John stood up to end the appointment.

Over the infant's cries, Brooke said, "Thank you Doctor Watson for helping him as much as you did."

"Really, it was nothing."

"Oh but it was," she insisted. "You have such patience. Your son is so very lucky to have a father that helps other children like him."

John felt heat rise up on his ears and he just smiled and thanked the young mother before closing the door on her departing footsteps and Nathan's sobs.

 

4:00 P.M.

In the hour left before clocking out of the clinic, John purposefully delayed his last appointment. He drew out the visit with the patient as much as he could, in order to not have to see another patient and then stay after hours.

That's why, when four o'clock arrived, John had everything packed and filed and he was leaving his office, headed to the front door with barely a farewell for Peter.

With single-minded determination, John pounded down the pavement headed to Baker Street. He thought of the picture Mrs. Hudson had sent him and tried not to be as jealous as he felt. Those little moments he had missed in the last eight hours. He tried to remind himself that it was the same routine as all the other days he had spent with Hamish in their flat and that Mrs. Hudson would have called if Hamish had started crawling or talking.

He mercifully arrived in front of 221 sooner than anticipated and he wasted no time in knocking. Inside, it took Mrs. Hudson a little while longer than usual but John could hear her approaching. Hamish's cries, although muffled by the closed door, could be heard from his position outside.

Mrs. Hudson pulled the door open with a smile and a crying Hamish squirming against her shoulder. John's eyes widened and he quickly dropped his bag to relieve her of the infant.

"It's okay," John chanted to the small body. "Shh, it's okay."

Mrs. Hudson picked up his discarded bag and drew him inside. John continued to murmur and bounce the infant in his arms all the way inside the flat.

Once inside, Hamish's crying had died down considerably and Mrs. Hudson filled him in on his irregular schedule. "He missed you," she said. "I think he just isn't used to this schedule and not having you around."

John collapsed onto the sofa with Hamish sniffling and shuddering into his neck. With his free hand, he scrubbed his face. "I should call and tell Sarah I'm not ready to return to work."

Mrs. Hudson sat beside him and stared at him. "What?...Why?" she asked.

John sighed and said, "Well it's obvious Hamish doesn't like it and I spend my free time wondering about him anyway. And then, he's going to start crawling and talking soon and I won't be around to see that." Hamish had settled into John's shoulder and was now quietly sucking on his fist.

Mrs. Hudson placed a hand on his shoulder, "John, this was one day. This was the first day. It isn't going to be like this for very long. He will adapt." She picked up a soother from the coffee table and placed it in Hamish's mouth. "He will have so many milestones to share with you and you will be here to see what he does. Everything you're afraid of missing…those are things you will teach him. You will teach him about crawling, talking, walking…You might not be there to see all of his firsts but I will record them and send them to you no matter what I need to do."

John smiled at her and relaxed considerably since arriving in the flat. He lifted Hamish from his shoulder and then lay him down in his lap with his feet to John's stomach and his head resting in John's hands. John smiled at the now relaxed infant sucking on his soother. "All better?" he asked to the hushed child.

Next, John stood Hamish up. His feet rested on John's thighs while John gripped the infant's arms. The father gave a smug grin at Hamish's abilities before placing him back in his reclined position.

He turned to Mrs. Hudson and asked, "Do you think he'll be as smart as Sherlock?"

Mrs. Hudson smiled, "He's a six month old and he deduced it was you over the phone and at the front door. He's going to be just fine."

"Like Albert Einstein?"

Mrs. Hudson narrowed her eyes questioningly and replied, "Yes…just like Albert Einstein."

 

5:12 P.M.

Rather than catch the tube back to his flat, John chose to walk to Regent's Park with Hamish settled in his papoose once again. The infant had the right side of his face resting against the center of John's chest and watching the various people walking around the park as well.

John idly walked and thought about the day he had spent. He mentally kicked himself for not foreseeing just how difficult the separation was going to be. After speaking with Mrs. Hudson, he had calmed down significantly. He was no longer thinking about going back on family leave. Instead, he decided to look forward to his day off the next day.

In the midst of his thoughts, Hamish began to squirm more than usual. John looked down to see what was the matter but the infant was shaking his head back and forth and pulling on the straps of the papoose.

Just when he was about to give it up as Hamish being tired from a long day, someone called out behind him, "Sir!"

John turned around and found a blonde woman striding to him holding something in her extended hand. He looked to see what it was and found that she was holding Hamish's soother with the green rabbit on it.

The blonde woman stopped in front of him with the soother in hand. In her other arm she held two large books of which John couldn't quite read the titles to. She was dressed in a short light pink dress, which only made her short blonde hair appear brighter.

John shook himself when he realized he had been staring at just how pretty she was. "Thank you," he said timidly.

The blonde woman dropped her arm but continued to stare at him. After a few seconds under her scrutiny – during which, John found a different soother to give to Hamish – her eyes widened and she exclaimed, "John!"

John cocked his head and stammered, "Yes…How…Sorry, who are you?"

"Mary…Mary Morstan," she smiled.

John's jaw dropped. "Yes, of course. Mary, from secondary school?"

"Yes," she exclaimed as she immediately jumped in to give him a hug. Hamish immediately protested as he felt the books dig into his backside. "Oh god, I'm so sorry –"

"It's fine," said John as he soothed Hamish.

Mary stepped back and watched him quiet the infant. She smiled and said, "Look at you, John. Is this your baby?"

"Yes, he is. This is Hamish."

"How cute!" Mary said. She took one of Hamish's fists and looked at him directly. "Hi Hamish," she said sweetly.

Hamish looked at her. Then shyly hid his face in John's shirt.

John and Mary laughed before she looked to her watch and her expression changed to surprise.

"Jesus! I need to get going or I'll miss the train. It was so good seeing you," she said as she engulfed John and Hamish in another hug and took mind of the books this time.

Mary was about to turn and leave when John made a split second decision and mustered up the courage to vocalize it.

"It's a shame we can't properly catch up," said John cheekily.

Mary turned back around and smirked. "Yes…It is a shame," she grinned.

"Hamish and I like coffee," he grinned.

"Oh really. Hamish enjoys himself a hot cuppa?" she giggled.

"Well," continued John. "Normally he has a bottle of milk, then tries to steal my cup."

Mary threw her head back and laughed. "Oh Hamish. We need to get your caffeine and calcium intake under control."

John smiled along with her and waited for her to answer.

Her laughter died down and she finally asked, "What's your number?"


	2. Tuesday 2 July

Tuesday 2 July

Mary Morstan. Age fourteen in third form. Long blonde hair tied back with a pink lace bow. An only child with a mother who prided herself on outward appearance. A very studious child who was praised by her parents and teachers for her looks and brains. So much talent and yet, so reserved. It was only when she was asked that she would shyly say that her goals in life were to be a wife, a mother, and a school teacher.

Even though she was so modest, she caught the eye of the fifteen-year-old football player in the fourth form. John was the boisterous and tough teenage boy who was socialized to proudly speak his mind, his goals, and his ambitions. He dreamed of one day following in his father’s footsteps and going into the army. His father shoved all the order and cleanliness down his throat already so the army would just be second nature. He boasted this fact proudly to all his football mates. As time went on, he developed a want to not just defend his country but to also be the doctor that helps people, which is how he found himself studying to be the best in biology.

It was at the end of Mary’s third form and John’s fourth form that they both met. Mary was small and giggly while John was gentlemanly and confident. They spent the summer dating and when school started again, people noticed the introverted girl dating the star football player.

Their relationship ended due to differences. The difference in age was too much for both of them. John would be graduating and needing to leave Mary behind. Their differences in personality, although in the beginning were complimentary, ended up being too different. Mary was too sweet and demure for what John was pursuing. John was on the brink of entering a very masculine field and it was too polar to what Mary had planned for her life.

In the beginning, the break up hurt, as all young relationships do. John graduated and the last he heard of Mary was a rumor that she was seeing another boy who was much more her type. John was happy for her. As he pursued his own career, he thought of Mary less and less until it had been twenty years since he had thought of her.

 

11:00am

John sat outside a café, with Hamish in his pushchair, soaking in the central London sun. His stomach churned with nervousness about today’s meeting. It had been two weeks since he had last seen Mary for the first time in over twenty years and now he would finally be catching up with her. The first week, they had not set up a meeting date because he and Hamish were still in transition to their new schedule. The second week, Hamish had gotten sick and required John’s constant attention on his days off. Now with his birthday behind him, John had arranged to meet today with Mary on his day off.

“Mohr,” came the sound of Hamish’s demands.

John shook himself out of his reverie and was met with the sight of Hamish, staring at the teaspoon in mid air, licking his lips. He smiled at the seven month old and fed him the spoonful of peas.

In the past couple of weeks, Hamish had developed a wider vocabulary. His new exclamation of “mohr” came from John’s own question of asking the infant if he would like “more” puree. Hamish had interpreted that as a command of asking for something. Now he was saying “mohr” anytime he wanted a toy, or to be picked up, or when asking for food.

John wiped the infant’s face to remove all the green puree and was met with the second word Hamish had learned.

“Noooo!” complained Hamish as the cloth rag rubbed over the skin on his cheeks. He dramatically waved his arms about and when John had removed the rag, Hamish began melodramatically hyperventilating.

John chuckled to himself and began gathering another spoonful of peas. As expected, Hamish’s hyperventilation was short lived in the sight of another spoonful of food.

The jar of peas was nearly finished when someone tapped John’s shoulder. He fought the urge to lash out and instead looked to see who had touched him.

Mary stood there smiling down at him with her short blonde hair styled with a black headband. Today she wore a jean skirt with a green button down and a camisole underneath.

John’s panic quickly went away in the sight of such a friendly face. He quickly traded in his anxious look for a smile and stood to give her a hug in greeting.

When they parted Mary stooped down to look at Hamish in his pushchair. “Hello Hamish,” she cooed to the infant. Hamish acknowledged her presence with a stare of his bright blue eyes and Mary beamed. John noticed that the corners of her eyes seemed to sadden but she quickly stood up before he could have a proper look.

“Shall I go in and order our coffee? What would you like?” Mary asked. He gave her his coffee order and then she was off.

While he waited, John handed Hamish his bottle of milk to drink. After ten minutes, Mary returned with their cups in hand. Smiling and making a passing comment about the nice barista, she sat down across from John and on Hamish’s left side.

“So,” began Mary, after taking a sip of her coffee, “John Watson. Last time I saw you; you were graduating and had dreams of going to the army. Did the dreams translate to reality?”

Hamish inquisitively looked around the nearly empty sidewalk and John nervously fiddled with his cup of coffee. “Err…yes actually. I did go to the army. Afghanistan. Did some time there as an army doctor –“

“Ooooo! Army doctor,” encouraged Mary.

“Er, yeah. After that, there isn’t much to tell. I got shot in the shoulder so I was invalided –“

“In the shoulder,” uttered Mary, “which one?”

“The left one. It’s all better now. And then I moved back to London. Worked with a…consulting detective as his assistant. He died. He left this one behind,” John affectionately said as he turned to smile at Hamish, who was not watching the conversation but watching the various cars rush by, “and that’s how I found myself with him.”

There was silence from across the table when he finished so he turned to look at Mary. She just sat there stunned in silence for the first time since she arrived. John disconcertedly took a sip of coffee and waited for her to say something.

Mary’s eyes continued to glaze over as she said, “wow…John…that’s so amazing.”

John, who had been avoiding eye contact, snapped his eyes to her. “Amazing”? Really? “Umm…thank you. I’m not sure why. It’s hardly the work of a genius.”

“But how many people can say they have adventured like you have? And to take in your boss’s son in the wake of his death? That is truly incredible.”

John smiled, “Sherlock was hardly my boss…He and I were friends. We did everything together and so when he…took his own life…Hamish’s birth mother saw me as the obvious choice.” Mary just nodded at his words and continued to look so shocked. John silently drank his coffee, waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, he broke the silence by asking, “but, enough about my depressing life, what about you?”

“Oh god,” Mary laughed, which relaxed John back to the way they were, “I’m afraid my life isn’t any more cheerful.” And so she dove into her explanation of the last twenty years. John silently listened and didn’t interrupt her long, and very open, history. After a half hour of details, narratives, and tangents, Mary ended with, “So that’s how I got to today. I’m a divorced, cancer surviving, PhD student, and lecturer, living in London, trying to get her new life sorted.” After the long explanation, John sat dazed and not knowing what to say. Mary giggled at his silence. “Stunned I see. Well that’s the worst of my life I’m sure,” she smiled.

John broke out of his silence and said, “I just never thought you would be the one to end up that way.”

Mary somberly took a sip of coffee. She gave a shrug and said, “Yeah well, when you knew me, I had not even experienced life yet and if there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that life is weird, difficult, but rewarding at times.”

She turned to look at Hamish and smiled at him. She set her coffee down and began brushing the hair off his forehead with her fingers. At the touch, Hamish turned his head and looked at Mary. John watched as Mary made a sad sigh at the look of Hamish’s big glassy eyes.

To John’s surprise, Hamish did something very unexpected. Perhaps it was because they had not seen too many people outside of Mrs Hudson, but John assumed that Hamish did not do well with other people touching him. Sherlock never did like being around other people and John needed to remind himself that Hamish was not Sherlock, no matter how much they looked alike.

As Mary combed the hair away from Hamish’s forehead, Hamish stared at her confusedly and then went cross-eyed trying to see the hair that had fallen onto his forehead. When she was done, Mary retracted her hand and leaned back in her chair but Hamish whined. He then extended his arms and cried, “mohr.” John and Mary’s jaws dropped in surprise. Mary’s eyes glistened and she turned to look at John for a signal asking if she was allowed to pick him up.

“Yes, yes, of course,” said John helping her unbuckle the infant.

When he was free, Mary pulled Hamish out of the pushchair and sat him down on her lap. She smiled at the small body in her arms and Hamish also returned the smile.


	3. Wednesday 3 July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments to yesterday's chapter. Unfortunately, this chapter isn't as happy.  
> Trigger warning for mentions of domestic violence and abortion

Wednesday 3 July

4:00pm

The clinic was closed and John was free to go relieve Mrs. Hudson of her duties. She hardly saw it as a duty anymore. She really did love caring for Hamish but John had needed to prescribe her more soothers for the hip.

John walked out of the clinic and into the streets of London. He was amazed he had gotten as far as the corner before Mycroft’s sleek black car parked alongside him. John did a quick mental calculation of the meaning behind this visit. It couldn’t be about Hamish; Mrs. Hudson would have called.

Deciding he would rather be driven to Baker Street than have to take the tube, John climbed in and took a seat next to “Anthea” and across from Mycroft.

“John,” said Mycroft in greeting. He leaned back to speak to the driver, “To Baker Street.”

The car began to move and John asked, “So what is this for? Just taking pity and decided to pick me up?”

As soon as he had finished asking, “Anthea” placed a folder on his lap. “It was to discuss this,” said Mycroft.

John was confused but he opened the cover on the folder and read the first page. His hands began to shake in fury at what he read.

“’The file of Mary Morstan’?” fumed John. “You did a background check on my schoolmate?”

“She’s much more than that now, isn’t she?” said Mycroft, calmly. He pulled out a small journal, “You are…meeting her for dinner next week,” he read.

“Stop that,” commanded John. He paused and calmly said, “Why do you have to meddle in everyone’s lives? Even your own brother didn’t enjoy it.”

Mycroft just remained silent and looked out of the window.

John sighed and asked, “Well…did you find out anything I should be worried about?”

Mycroft perked back up as he turned to look at him again. “I did. Ms. Morstan has been living in London for almost a year now. She had a previous marriage –“

“I know about the marriage,” interrupted John. “She told me about the divorce yesterday.”

“Did she tell you that her ex husband is currently in prison?” smirked Mycroft with his know-it-all face.

John scrunched his eyebrows and said, “No. No, she didn’t.”

“Well there you are then. She was married to Louis Barnes in Gloucester where she was a schoolteacher and a housewife. They never had children and stopped trying after she developed cancer.”

“Yes, Mycroft,” said John, “I know about the cancer too. She told me all –“

“Once in remission,” interrupted Mycroft in an impatient tone, “Louis Barnes began to abuse her. She entered the classic circle of violence when dealing with the abuse. Almost two and a half years ago, she became pregnant. Fearing for her own life and the life of a child, she aborted. Louis Barnes now sits in prison for drug possession.”

John sat there shocked at what he had heard. “He didn’t go to prison for abuse?”

Mycroft shrugged. “Ms. Morstan lived in Gloucester alone with her husband. She did not have anyone to turn to.”

John shook his head and tried to tamp down the pity he felt for Mary. He opened the file and began to read. He read all about her past and how she got a divorce while her husband was still in prison. He read about how she earned her degree by going to class in secret. He read about the abortion. He read about her current life as a sociology lecturer at the University of London. He read about her first published book on transnational feminism. At the back of the file were several photographs of John, Mary, and Hamish at the coffee shop the day before, one with Hamish in his pushchair and another where Mary had Hamish on her lap.

By the time the car had reached 221 Baker Street, John was done reading the file and when the car stopped, he did not move to get out.

John looked up and asked, “Mycroft, why would you show me this?”

It may have been John’s imagination or Mycroft actually had blushed. It was only a light pink on his cheekbones but it was unmistakably a sign of embarrassment.

And when he opened his mouth, it only served to prove John’s point. “Well…you see…I…I’m…Hamish is…important to me,” Mycroft stammered.

When John had gotten over the shock of seeing the British government stumble over his words, he said, “Hamish is important to you. What does Mary have to do with that?”

Mycroft scrunched his eyebrows as though confused as to how John could not understand. “Because, Mary and Hamish’s lives are intertwined now. Surely you must have seen the looks she gave him yesterday. The child she would have given birth to would have been a few months older than Hamish is now. It is natural that she sees that in Hamish.”

“Ok, but why does that matter to you? Mary has grown affectionate and attached to Hamish, so what?”

“I needed to know what kind of person you were introducing into Hamish’s life,” insisted Mycroft. There was silence in the car, except for the tapping of “Anthea’s” keys. Mycroft calmly said, “I needed to know that she was someone who could be trusted.”

“Or else you would have done what?” asked John

“I would have told you she was untrustworthy and I would have had to trust that you would make the right decision.”

A light dawned on John and he remarked, “This…this is what you would do to Sherlock didn’t you? You did a background check on all the people who ever got near him and tried to drive them away.”

“Not all of them,” countered Mycroft with a look to John.

“Very nearly did though,” said John. “Well as it turns out, Mary can be trusted so your background check was for nothing.”

“No, it was for something,” refuted Mycroft. “Louis Barnes has a year left in prison. If he tries to come near Hamish, you, or Mary, I’ll be sure he is in prison for the rest of his life.”

John just nodded, knowing that Mycroft would come through on his word. It was not an empty promise.

John smiled at Mycroft and said, “You know, these overprotective feelings you have, how long have they been going on?”

Mycroft looked to his assistant, as though not wanting to admit something so sentimental in front of her. John just waited so Mycroft resigned to allow his humanity through. “Ever since Sherlock was born.”

John let out a slow breath. “Any idea when these overprotective feelings are supposed to go away?” he asked.

“Never.”

John’s eyebrows rose. “Even now that your brother’s dead?” he winced at the mention of his friend’s death.

Mycroft nodded, “even now. Only now my worry is divided between my brother and my nephew.”

John smiled and put Mary’s file away in his bag. “Well, isn’t Hamish just lucky that his overprotective uncle can control the British government and make all his bullies disappear,” he said as he opened the door to the car. “Goodbye all,” he said in parting.

“Oh and John,” said Mycroft before the door was closed, “It wouldn’t be such a bad idea to introduce Mary to Mrs. Hudson.” Mycroft watched as John slowly but two and two together. “Goodnight.”

John stood outside on the sidewalk and watched the car leave. Then he turned to knock on the door of 221. Faster than usual, the door opened under his knuckles to a Mrs. Hudson carrying a crying Hamish.

“John,” she greeted.

“Mrs. Hudson,” John greeted as he switched his bag for Hamish, “how long has he been crying?”

“I swear,” she huffed as she led him to her sitting room, “he has worked out your schedule and now cries if you’re even a minute late.”

John checked his watch and did find that the meeting with Mycroft had made him almost five minutes late. “Oh,” he replied.

 

4:45

After gathering all their things and saying goodnight to Mrs. Hudson, John and Hamish set off to go back to the flat. John thought about the file he had taken from Mycroft. No doubt the British government had spare copies of that file. Still, as they reached the tube station, John approached a bin located outside the station and threw the file away in plain view of the CCTV cameras.

Hopefully Mycroft would get the message that John had decided to never bring it up to Mary. John would let her have her secrets so that John may have his.


	4. Saturday 30 November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have been keeping up to date with Sherlock season 3 then you know how painful this fic has just now become.  
> Don't be too scared though. This is a long-ish and fluffy chapter.  
> Let me know if there are any mistakes.

Saturday 30 November

8:00am

The alarm clock promptly began to blare at the top of the hour and John quickly hit snooze. He reminded himself that it was a Saturday. Why would he have even set the alarm on a Saturday?

He curled back into bed and began trying to doze off when he heard a tapping sound coming from the corner of the room. John’s eyes flew open as he remembered just why he had set the alarm. With a groan he sat up in bed and began shutting off the alarm.

“Papa,” babbled Hamish. He sat in the center of his crib, babbling away and tapping a toy against the bars.

John gave him a wide smile and approached the crib. He leaned in and brushed the long locks of hair away from Hamish’s forehead, then lifted the infant’s chin to look into that round and open face. Hamish grumbled and removed his chin from his father’s grasp.

John let out a small chuckle then bent over and put his face near Hamish. “Happy birthday,” whispered John.

Hamish paid no mind. He instead munched on one of his toys and let his chin get wet.

John lifted the child from the crib and set him down on the bed. He turned to look through the drawers for Hamish’s outfit, but when his back was turned, John heard the unmistakable sound of the toddler sliding off the bed and onto the floor. Feet enveloped in cloth touched down on the carpet and then wobbled over to the play bin. John just sighed and continued to rummage through the clothing.

When he had all that was needed, John placed it on the bed and then walked over to pick up Hamish from the pile of toys he had dumped on the floor.

“Nooooooo,” cried Hamish as John lifted him from the pile of toys. His cry of “no” soon dissolved into long tears streaming down his face.

John shushed him and began zipping him out of the cotton one-piece pajamas with the dinosaurs on it. He never quit babbling “no” through the tears but Hamish was mostly pliant and John quickly dressed him in his green body suit, tan cargo trousers, a blue cotton jumper, and a pair of trainers with lightning bolts on them.

While he was taming Hamish’s hair, John received a phone call and he blindly answered it.

“Hello,” answered John as he positioned the phone between his shoulder and ear.

 _“John, I should be at your door in about five minutes so keep the door open,”_ said Mary.

“Right, yes. I’ll be ready.”

_“Has Mrs. Hudson picked up Hamish yet?”_

While John was working on a nasty knot Hamish had developed overnight, the toddler screamed and said, “nooo”.

 _“Well that answers that,”_ laughed Mary _._

“Yes, well, she should be here any moment,” said John.

_“And so will I. I want to tell that little angel happy birthday before his play date.”_

“Alright. He’s waiting – Hamish stop! Ok I have to hang up. He’s trying to take the phone away again. Urgh. Now he’s started his chant of ‘no’.”

Mary laughed, “ _Ok. I’m right outside the building. I’ll see you in a little bit._ ”

John hung up the phone, made sure it was locked, and then handed it to Hamish who proceeded to stick it to his ear. Only half of Hamish’s head was detangled but John picked him up and carted him into the sitting room to unlock the door for Mary. He turned the lock, and then sat a squirming one-year-old into his highchair to continue the detangling. John dropped a handful of cereal on the tray, as well as a small bottle of milk for Hamish to drink.

Mary entered the flat to see John brushing the dark straight hair on Hamish’s head and Hamish hitting buttons on John’s mobile. She smiled and closed the door behind her.

“Hi sweetie,” Mary beamed as she approached the two of them in the dining area.

John raised his eyes and the look on Mary’s face confirmed that she had been talking to him.

“Hi darling,” he said as he pecked her on the lips.

“And you,” she rejoiced looking to Hamish. Hamish removed the phone from his ear and extended it to Mary. Mary took the phone, put it to her ear and said, “Yes, hi…you want to talk to me or Hamish?”

Hamish’s eyes widened and he reached for the phone. Mary gave it to him and the toddler put it back to his ear. “Ba ba ba ‘mish ana” prattled Hamish.

John smiled at the toddler’s interpretation of his name. John had said his name so many times that Hamish had picked it up. A few weeks ago, John had been looking through pictures of Hamish, in order to have some available for the guests arriving to the party, and Hamish had taken one look and pronounced “’mish”. John’s jaw had dropped and then had morphed into a wide smile. That was four words and counting. He was talking at a level that only the average one and a half year old could hope to match.

“Have you gotten all his things together?” asked Mary.

John stopped the brushing for a moment, to pause and think. “No,” he said as the realization dawned on him.

“Ok well you go pack his things and I’ll finish up his hair,” Mary insisted. “You make his hair all crooked anyway.”

John went into the bedroom to rummage around looking for all of the necessary items. As he was packing, he heard Mary in the other room singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and Hamish giggling. John paused his packing and stuck his head into the doorway. In the sitting room, Mary had removed Hamish from his highchair and was swinging him around in her arms singing to him. After watching until the song was nearly done, John went back to packing.

When he emerged from the bedroom, he had the nappy bag packed and Mary was nearly done with Hamish’s hair. John began brewing tea for he and Mary while Hamish ate his breakfast. While he paused and listened to Mary talk on and on about her week, he noticed how differently they were dressed. He was still wearing his t-shirt and pajama bottoms while she was well put together in a dress and flat shoes. Before he could do anything about that, Mrs. Hudson was knocking on their door.

“Hi dears,” she greeted them all.

“Mrs. Hudson,” Mary announced in greeting as she set her cup down on the counter and ran to embrace her.

“Hello Mary, dear, how are you?” asked Mrs. Hudson after their hug had parted.

“I’m fine. Just ready for the party,” smiled Mary.

“Yes, speaking of party,” said Mrs. Hudson looking around behind Mary to Hamish still talking on the phone and eating dry cereal. Mrs. Hudson hugged and kissed Hamish for long moments and after a while, Hamish began to protest and extend his arms toward John. Everyone smiled as he clung onto John’s neck.

After they had all shared pleasantries, and tea, Mrs. Hudson announced that she would take Hamish off of their hands. “Thank you Mrs. Hudson,” said John, “We will see you back at three.”

“I’ll walk you out,” said Mary as she helped Mrs. Hudson with Hamish and the nappy bag.

After that John was left alone to shower. When he emerged from the shower, Mary was in his room laying out clothes on the bed for him; clothes he did not recognize.

“What’s all this?” asked John.

“Well I didn’t want you to get jealous,” Mary replied as she pecked John’s lips. “I bought you a shirt that you can wear for today. Just promise you won’t get jealous of the toy I bought Hamish,” she teased.

“Jealous? I’ll probably cry if it’s more talking puppets,” he said with a smile. The truth was, he had gotten used to the talking puppets by now.

John looked at what Mary had purchased him. It wasn’t what he would have normally chosen for himself but he decided to go along with it. He put on the solid dark blue long sleeve button down shirt along with his jeans and Mary assured him that all the men in London were wearing them. John looked at himself in the mirror. It didn’t look too bad so he just thanked Mary.

Just as things were getting heated between them, there was a knock at the door. John groaned and pulled away as Mary giggled beneath him. He marched through the sitting room with Mary behind him and answered the door.

“Big brother!” squealed Harry after John had opened the door. She leapt into his arms and held him tight as he half returned.

“Hi Harry, come on in,” said John, closing the door behind her. “You remember Mary right?”

“Yes I do,” Harry answered, smiling, “you are my coworker’s teacher.”

They shook hands and made small talk while John just watched them. Mary was the first to remember that they were supposed to prepare for the party.

“Yes,” said John, walking over to the dining table where the party supplies were mounted on top of each other. “All of this needs to be put up and I need to run out and get the food,” and they went off to decorate.

 

2:00pm

At various points throughout the day, John and Harry had butted heads over John’s obsession with cleaning things but eventually everything was prepared and Molly arrived at their door.

“Hi everyone,” she nervously said.

“Come in,” said Mary, inviting Molly to join she and Harry in their conversation. John took the present off her hands and placed it along with the others.

“Oh wait,” exclaimed Harry in her boisterous tone, “I haven’t been recording.”

“You can just start now,” said John and so she did.

John began pouring all non-alcoholic drinks for the guests, both for Harry’s sake and because it was a child’s party. Just as he had finished handing everyone their drinks, there was another knock at the door. Mary opened it to find Lestrade and his daughter, Maggie. Everyone invited them inside and Lestrade introduced his ten-year-old daughter to everyone. After that, Sarah was next to arrive and John introduced her as his boss.

At half past two, Eleanor, from John’s parenting class, arrived with her two adoptive daughters.

“Hi, come on in,” John greeted. “You remember my girlfriend Mary right? Everyone this is Eleanor and her nieces, Erica and Sandra.”

Erica was almost six and Sandra was two years old, which made them the perfect playmates for Hamish. At that thought, John asked Eleanor, “Did you see Mrs. Hudson with Hamish at the park?”

“I did,” she replied, “They should be here soon. We left before they did. Is everyone here?” she asked with a look around the semi-crowded room.

“Err not quite.”

At five minutes before three, there was a knock at the door. All the guests looked in the direction of John opening the door, thinking it was Hamish and Mrs. Hudson. Their faces turned to shock and confusion as John opened it to reveal Violet and Mycroft, looking well dressed as always.

“Whoa,” said Harry as she aimed the camera in their direction.

John put on a smile and beckoned them inside. “Everyone, this is Violet Holmes and Mycroft Holmes,” he said by way of introductions.

Violet gave everyone a nervous and confused wave then handed John a crisply wrapped box shaped present with a bow on top. Mycroft stepped in to remove his mother’s coat then hand it to John. John grumbled but gathered the coat in his arms and took it into the bedroom. While he was in there, he received a phone call from Mrs. Hudson.

“Yes, I will be downstairs in a bit,” said John into the phone.

He put the coat down on the mattress then went back into the sitting room to announce Mrs. Hudson’s arrival. He climbed down the stairs and found her with Hamish in his pushchair. Hamish beamed up at John when he saw him and then tried to show him a dried leaf he had picked up from the park.

“You take Hamish and the nappy bag dear. I’ll manage with this,” Mrs. Hudson said and went up ahead of John and Hamish.

For an older woman, Mrs. Hudson did well carrying the folded pushchair up the stairs. Meanwhile, Hamish slowly climbing up the steps with one hand in John’s and one hand on the bars of the guardrail slowed John down but after several minutes, they reached the right landing and Mrs. Hudson was waiting for them with the door open. John walked Hamish into the flat and everyone inside yelled “happy birthday”.

Harry moved closer to capture Hamish’s face as his eyes grew wide as saucers and then he turned and clung to John’s leg. Everyone “aww”’d as John picked up the toddler and leaned him against his shoulder to rub circles into his back.

“Aww my little angel,” cooed Mary standing in front of John trying to help soothe Hamish. She tried to grab Hamish herself but the toddler had a death grip on John’s shoulders.

John murmured soothing words to the toddler in his arms as everyone went back to talking. Harry continued to film every one of Hamish’s movements but Violet was the first to push her way across the sitting room.

Violet stopped in front of John and asked, “May I hold him?”

“Err, if I can get him off my shoulder,” John replied once again trying to remove Hamish.

“Hamish,” sang Violet, placing a hand on the toddler’s back and stepping around John to look at Hamish’s face.

Eventually Hamish lifted his head and looked at Violet but did not move to extend his arms out to her. Instead he leaned over and said, “mohr” in Mary’s direction so John handed him over to her.

“Oh, Mary, this is Violet Holmes. Violet, this is my girlfriend, Mary,” said John.

“Pleasure to meet you,” said Violet icily, after Mary had shifted Hamish to one side and shook hands with her.

Afterwards, Hamish had relaxed enough that he began to play with Erica, Sandra, and Maggie while John went about serving food to all the guests.

At half past three, there was another knock at the door and John went to go answer. There stood a man with dark brown hair, pale skin, and brown eyes.

“Isaac,” beamed Mary as she went over to the door and hugged him. “John, this is my cousin Isaac.”

“Oh hi,” said John, “I wasn’t sure if you were still coming. Mary has been telling me all about you.”

“Good things I hope,” laughed Isaac. “And yes, Mary was telling me all about your son Hamish turning a year old today so I had to come along and meet you two.”

“Right, well,” said John as he turned back around to look at the crowd of people in the sitting room to look for Hamish. It didn’t take him long to find Harry chasing after him with a video camera and luckily, only a couple seconds later, Hamish wobbled over to John. He stopped in front of John and reached up to hand him a small plastic toy. John smiled down at him and took the little plastic toy, then Hamish turned around and started going back where he had come from.

John laughed and caught the toddler before he could get farther away. “And this is Hamish,” said John lifting him in his arms to face Isaac.

“Ah, hello Hamish,” smiled Isaac, “and a happy birthday to you.”

Hamish wasn’t paying attention; he was too busy trying to slide out of John’s grip to land back on the floor.

“No no no,” said John, “you need to eat your food.”

He placed Hamish in his highchair to have his dinner and once there, Violet approached asking if she could feed him. John reluctantly let her but stayed nearby to keep an eye on how she was feeding him. He went over to have dinner while having a conversation with the rest of the party, but he was only half listening. He was busy smiling at the confused face Hamish had on while Violet made little noises as she spoon-fed him.

After dinner, John let Hamish out of his highchair and back onto the floor so that he could walk around with the party guests. Maggie had taken a particular liking to Hamish and was busy following him around and indulging him with playing blocks.

Everyone at the party continued to chatter but Mycroft and Violet mostly kept to themselves. Anytime Hamish got near them – which was often since the toddler had started a game where he was constantly circling around all the guests just because there were so many people in the flat at once – Violet would try and stop him to have a proper look. Of course trying to stop a runaway car from rolling down a hill would be easier than trying to stop a walking one year old.

At some point Hamish had begun getting tired and Violet was able to grab him. After some effort at trying to pick him up, Mycroft intervened and awkwardly gathered the toddler into his lap. Hamish immediately recognized Mycroft from all those ‘coincidental’ run-ins with Mrs Hudson and Hamish at the park. Hamish smiled at his uncle and then started looking around for Mycroft’s brolly. Once the toddler had spotted it, Mycroft lifted the toddler off his lap and away from the umbrella. Hamish giggled in response to being lifted and they, Violet and Mycroft, smiled. Mycroft lifted Hamish up and down a couple times until one of the times, Mycroft had the toddler completely horizontal above him and Hamish drooled onto Mycroft’s cheek. Mycroft cried in disgust and Harry threw back her head and laughed from behind the video camera.

“Be glad it wasn’t something else,” laughed Harry.

John ran over to assist after having seen the whole thing happen. He picked Hamish up into his arms where the toddler relaxed against him. Mycroft was already wiping his cheek of any residue Hamish might have caused.

After that, John no longer turned Hamish loose. He instead removed the toddler’s clothes and left him in his nappy, then sat him in his highchair. John then went into the kitchen to pull out Hamish’s birthday cake. It was a small cake that was about twice the size of a cupcake and had blue frosting and sprinkles all over it. On top of the frosting, it had a little figurine from Hamish’s favorite television show, Borough Street.

John placed the cake on the tray in front of Hamish and then stood back to watch his eyes grow in wonderment. Everyone in the flat, as well as several cameras, gathered around the toddler and John who then began putting in a single birthday candle into the cake.

“Hamish, who is that?” asked John as he pointed to the figurine on top of the cake.

The toddler just pointed at the figurine but could not voice his response so he just smiled at John. John then moved the toddler’s hands back and lit the candle.

“Ok, 1 2 3,” conducted John as everyone in the flat began singing ‘Happy Birthday’. Harry continued on filming throughout the melody, making sure to capture the sight of John holding Hamish’s hands together and singing ‘Happy Birthday’ while Hamish stared at the flame then around at all the singing guests.

Once the song was over, John instructed Hamish, “blow out the candles” to which Hamish replied with a blank stare. John smiled and blew out the candle for him and everyone in the room applauded.

While John was removing the candle and the figurine from the cake, Lestrade asked, “Are we all supposed to share off of that?”

John looked up, “no, I have a different cake in the fridge. This one is for Hamish.”

A few of the guests seemed confused until John took Hamish’s hand and put it in the frosting of the cake and then into the toddler’s mouth. Everyone laughed as Hamish’s face morphed from the taste of the frosting. With a happy smile, Hamish went in for a second helping of the frosting with two hands.

As everyone watched the spectacle that was Hamish dying his whole body blue, John pulled the second and larger cake out of the fridge while Mary prepared tea. Once everyone had had their piece of cake, John removed the mess of a birthday cake from in front of Hamish. He lifted the toddler from the highchair and tried to get as little frosting on himself as possible but it was a losing battle since Hamish had somehow managed to get the frosting in his hair and all over his stomach. John just laughed and strolled Hamish into the bathroom with Harry and the camera in tow.

John just rolled his eyes as he started the bath water and Harry recorded Hamish standing in front of her all covered in blue frosting. Once the water was ready, John removed Hamish’s nappy and sat him in the water.

Hamish began getting distracted with the water and the tiles so Harry had to call Hamish’s name. She laughed as the one year old aimed a wide blue-toothed smile at the camera while John kneeled next to the tub.

“Future Hamish,” addressed John to the camera, “this is all your aunt’s fault. Not mine.”

Harry laughed and pointed the camera at herself, “Hi future Hamish, you should tell me how young and hot I’m looking even if you’re watching this twenty years from now.”

John barked out a laugh and began scrubbing the blue food coloring off of Hamish. Harry left the bathroom soon after that, leaving John to babble with Hamish in the tub. After the bath, John wrapped Hamish up in a towel and went out into the hallway between the bedroom and the sitting room. He stood in the doorway of the sitting room where everyone could see Hamish’s very wet locks and wet lashes blinking in the light. Some of the guests laughed, others cooed, and Harry captured it all on camera. Hamish’s only response was to shyly turn his head into John’s neck.

After that, John took him into the bedroom to change into his pajamas. Mary came in a short while after to see them.

“John,” she cried, “your shirt has got all messy.”

John looked down at the shirt Mary had given him and sure enough, there was blue frosting stuck to it.

“You go and get changed. I’ll finish with Hamish,” she said.

To be perfectly honest, John was pretty glad to be rid of the shirt. It had been very uncomfortable and not at all what he was used to wearing. He removed it and put on a jumper instead.

Once he had rejoined the party, Hamish already running around the room in his monkey pajamas and playing with the girls. After a quick cup of tea, John gathered Hamish again to open the presents. All the guests watched Hamish’s eyes glow with the opening of every present. When they reached Lestrade and Maggie’s present of a play mat and blocks, it became harder to keep Hamish still enough to not have him run away to play with his new gifts.

The last gift was from Violet and Mycroft. John helped Hamish tear it open and inside they found a set of sandbox tools. Upon seeing the present, John figured out that Mycroft must have been the one to suggest the gift since he spent a lot of time with Hamish and Mrs Hudson at the park. John was about to thank everyone for the gifts when Violet spoke up.

“Oh John,” she said, “one more thing. I brought this and thought it might interest you.”

She handed him a small photograph that was turning yellow where the paper had once been white. He looked at the paper and tried to get a proper look before Hamish would try and pry it out of his hands.

In the photograph was a picture of a toddler with light brown curls and grey-blue eyes. The child sat atop a table with a soother in his mouth. He was dressed in a t-shirt and blue trousers. The child was looking down at a small cake, with the one birthday candle sticking out of it that had been placed next to him.

“‘Mish” said Hamish pointing at the little boy in the picture.

John choked out a laugh at Hamish’s response then kissed the top of his head. He blinked back the tears before asking Violet, “Is that Sherlock?”

She nodded. “It was at his first birthday. The nanny bought him a cake and sat him down to sing for him. Mycroft would know more about it,” she said, gesturing to her son, “He was the one that took the picture. I had him digging through our photo albums all morning to look for that.”

John smiled down at the photograph of a young Sherlock and then laughed, “Well it seems that Hamish has recognized the similarities.”

Violet nodded and smiled in response. All the guests then began passing the photograph around and looking back and forth between the photo and Hamish. A collective melancholy seemed to descend upon the party. Even those who didn’t know Sherlock knew that John had obtained Hamish because of him and they were able to see the similarities. Still, Molly volunteered to explain who Sherlock was to Isaac.

After the photograph, everyone began gathering his or her things to leave. Hamish began drifting off to sleep even as all the guests said goodbye to him. John offered the photograph back to Violet but she told him to keep it.

“It can remind Hamish of who his father is,” she said. “Unless you’re keeping that a secret.”

“Er, no, I don’t think I am,” John replied. “It just hasn’t come up yet.” The truth was, John was still emotionally battling trying to come to terms with how he was going to introduce Sherlock’s legacy into Hamish’s life.

“Very well then,” she replied, pulling her coat on. “And here,” she said, handing him an envelope, “it’s the invitation to this year’s Christmas party. My cousin, Vivian, I don’t know if you remember her from the party, but she is hosting this year. You can stay at my house and we can make the ten-minute drive there together. I have provided all the information in there.”

“Um, thank you,” John replied. “I’ll be sure to let you know what happens.”

“Right, well goodnight to you all,” she smiled. “And to you,” she turned to Hamish who was now cuddling into John’s side, “a wonderful and happy birthday.” She kissed the toddler’s cheek and left a light pink smudge.

John closed the door behind Violet and Mycroft and was only left with Mary and Hamish.

“Well she was awful,” said Mary.

John smiled. “It only gets minimally better than that.”

John put the Christmas invitation down on the counter then carried a drowsy Hamish into the bedroom with Mary in tow. He placed the toddler into his crib and kissed him goodnight, followed by Mary.

Before they turned the light off and set to work cleaning up after the party, John taped the picture of Sherlock’s first birthday on the wall next to Hamish’s crib; A step into introducing Sherlock’s legacy.


End file.
